


when hell freezes over

by cravethatcinnaroll



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Snow Day, also theres some swearing, no coran sorry hhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cravethatcinnaroll/pseuds/cravethatcinnaroll
Summary: Struggling to prioritize his studies, social affairs, and extracurriculars, Keith's busy life feels like hell. Luckily, the universe has a little surprise in store.





	when hell freezes over

“Lance, is that you? Hey, hold on! Your sneakers are sopping wet! Did you fall in the duck pond again? At least wipe your feet on the welcome mat, the  _ last  _ thing I need is another lecture from Shiro.” 

 

Taking a heavy step back, Keith’s bleary eyes strain with discomfort as he tries to figure out just what the  _ fuck _ he’s looking at. 

 

Lance, clothed in a half dozen hoodies and sweaters, is struggling to squeeze through the cramped dorm room door. He’s rambling again--loud but unintelligible, his enthusiasm muffled by a thick covering of scarves. 

 

Keith isn't sure whether he should be concerned, or amused, or both. 

“Lance,” he says slowly. “Care to explain why you’re dressed like a human burrito?” 

 

Keith squints, blinking away his drowsiness. “And are those Hunk’s oven mitts?”  

He’s never been particularly good at reading the mood, but lucky for him, Lance wears his heart on his sleeve. Even under all the excessive layers, Keith can tell that he’s practically  _ beaming _ . 

 

In one smooth motion, Lance yanks off his scarves and flings them to the floor, sighing in relief as he frees his flushed face from its confines.

 

His mouth is stretched wide in a soft, crooked grin--one that, even through Keith's haze of exhaustion, feels infectious. Dark blue eyes meet gray as Lance pants out a breathless reply.

 

“Duh, how  _ else  _ am I supposed to make snowballs without any winter gloves? Like, what am I, an animal?”

 

For as long as Keith can remember, Lance has always had a knack for making up stories, stemming from the constant need to entertain his siblings. After so much practice, he's even been able to fool Professor Iverson with some of his crazy alibis. 

 

But they’re in Arizona, for god’s sake. It hasn't snowed for years, decades even, and this is a tall tale that Keith won't believe ‘til he sees it.

 

“You have  _ got _ to be kidding me.” Keith hopes he doesn’t sound as lifeless as he feels, but the lack of morning coffee is really starting to get to him. He exhales and rubs at his temples. “Isn't it kind of early to mess with me? And to be so damn loud about it?” He’d just woken up, after all. 

 

“Wow, you’re just gonna accuse me like that?” Lance gasps dramatically, clutching at his heart in mock offense. “I came out here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now. Oh, and if you don't want me banging on the door, you should really learn to answer your phone!”

 

After shedding the mitts and his outermost layer of clothing, he’s finally able to shimmy inside, making a beeline for the nearest window. “Ye of little faith, behold!” Lance tugs on the drapes with a flourish, revealing a sight that’s as blinding as it is breathtaking.

 

Even through the harsh beams of sunlight, it’s impossible to miss the dense flurries of white that engulf the campus courtyard, swirling like smoke in the wind. Utterly speechless, Keith can’t help but wonder if he's actually still in his bed dreaming.

 

Lance playfully nudges his side, sticking out his tongue like a child. “See, Keith? I told you these hips don't lie.” 

 

His smug, playful tone is ridiculous, silly enough to spur on small fit of laughter. 

 

“Lance,” Keith hiccups, wiping a tear of hysteria. “I'm sorry I ever doubted you.”

 

Lance puffs out his chest and hums with delight. “What's that? Is mullet man actually admitting he's wrong? Today is just full of surprises!”  

 

“Ugh, please don't ruin it,” Keith groans, pushing past him to get to the kitchen. “And on that note, please don’t speak to me again until I’m fully conscious.” 

 

“Nah, I’m gonna enjoy this while I can. Should bring out that fancy-ass cryptid-hunting camera you have just to capture this special occasion. Not that anyone could even find it in all this mess,” says Lance, gesturing to the cluttered gray counter. It's loaded with piles of papers, most of them covered in nearly-illegible scrawl. The heaps form a hodgepodge of sloppiness, varying from class notes and colorful Post-Its from Shiro to dark, blurry snapshots of UFO sightings--all rolled into one giant eyesore.

 

“You should really try to organize a little,” he continues. "And work on that penmanship while you’re at it.”

 

“Aaand you ruined it,” Keith grumbles, taking a seat. “You know what, I take it back. You were wrong; I don’t see any snow. In the words of a  _ certain _ someone, ‘nope, don’t remember, didn’t happen.’ Must’ve been a sleep-deprived hallucination. Now can you make yourself useful and grab me a filter? I can’t feel my legs at the moment.” 

 

Lance quirks an eyebrow. “You dozed off at your desk again, didn't you? Probably ended up leaving the lights on all night, too.” 

 

“You don’t know me. You don’t know my life,” Keith replies, not meeting the other boy’s gaze. Stifling a yawn, he reaches for a dwindling can of coffee grounds. He pops open the thin plastic lid before taking a deep breath, the rich, earthy scent slightly soothing.

 

“Say what you want, but those bags under your eyes tell a different story. Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Keith.”

 

Keith scoffs, face still buried nose-deep in coffee grounds. “Really?  _ That  _ line? What are you, twelve?” 

 

His tone comes out harsher than necessary, but Lance knows it's just due to stress. Not missing a beat, he says, “Yeah, on a scale of one to ten.

 

“Scratch that. You act like a kindergartener.”

 

“Oh, sure. Sue a guy for managing to hold on to his childlike innocence in the face of a cold and unforgiving world. Not everyone likes to be grumpy and hold grudges all the time.”

 

Keith indignantly crosses his arms. “First of all, I'm not fucking grumpy. Second, I like to think that I hold a perfectly acceptable amount of grudges for someone who's had to deal with your shit for this long. And third, if you don't want me to do either of those things, can you just help me out here?”

 

“Well, I don't think I heard you say ‘please’.”

 

“Okay, how ‘bout  _ please  _ stop being petty and get me a filter before I spontaneously combust from exhaustion.”

 

“Ugh. Maybe  _ you  _ should go back to kindergarten so you can learn some basic manners.”

 

“Lance, this is no time for games. I need one  _ right now _ or I’ll die.” 

 

“Oh, you need a filter alright,” Lance snarks. “It would probably help with your people skills. Maybe then you’d be able to ask for things nicely.” He's met with a groan of frustration.

 

But as much as he likes to tease Keith, he isn’t just going to leave him hanging. Lance knows the pain of missing a much-needed dose of caffeine, so he doesn’t have the heart to ignore the guy’s desperate request. 

 

“Here, you big baby,” says Lance, tossing one on the counter. “Can’t have my favorite rival dying on me. Not before beating you, anyway.”

 

“How comforting. What are we competing at, again?” Keith retorts, snatching it up. 

 

“Anything and everything, hotshot. You and I both know we’re too stubborn to back down from a challenge.” 

 

“Well, you’ve certainly won ‘Most Annoying.’”

 

“Hey, I resent that. Not my fault you can’t appreciate my quick wit and great sense of humor.”

 

The black-haired boy lets out a sigh. Sure, Lance is trying to lighten the mood--but at this point, Keith’s running on fumes, unable to summon the brainpower required to deal with his shenanigans. 

 

A strange blaring sound jolts him out of his thoughts, nearly making him jump in the process. 

 

Lance grins apologetically, digging his hands through his jean pockets. “Sorry, did that startle you? It’s just my new ringtone. I make a pretty good siren noise, don’t you think?” 

 

“No way in hell. That's almost as bad as the laser gun sounds Shiro makes whenever  _ Star Wars _ is on.”

 

“Oh, hush. I'm gonna go take this, so try not to miss me too much,” says Lance, heading back to the living room.

 

_ Good riddance,  _ Keith thinks, savoring what would most likely be the last peace and quiet he’d see that day.

 

\-----

 

“Okay, Hunk said the main route’s blocked up at the moment, so we'll have to take the long way around. It’s tedious, but it’ll be worth it. You wouldn’t happen to have any more coffee, would you? Or some tea to keep me up and alert?”

 

“I wish. But sadly, no.”

 

“Guess I'll have to drink some of yours, then.”

 

“Hey, this coffee is my lifeblood. Touch it and you'll lose a fucking finger.”

 

“Consider it payment for me driving your ass to the park,” Lance replies, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Psh. Ain’t nobody tell you to do that, though.”

 

“As a matter of fact, Shiro did. He pretty much insisted that I give you a ride since he's already there with Allura.”

 

Keith simply grunts in response. Despite being physically and emotionally drained, he can't bring himself to say no to Shiro.

 

“He’s been pretty concerned about you lately. We’ve  _ all  _ been concerned, to be honest. You’ve always held your ground under pressure, but it looks like the workload is finally starting to get to you. The way I see it, this miracle is just what you needed. You should really take this chance to unwind.” He sounds so sincere that Keith’s heart starts to twinge in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you just now,” Keith blurts out, ducking his head. “And all those times earlier. You were just trying to help.” He nudges the rest of his coffee towards Lance in a subtle display of apology.

 

His guilty expression is met with the sunniest of smiles. “It’s okay, buddy. I knew you’d come around.”

 

“Hmm, black coffee, huh? Not my favorite, but I'll take just about anything warm right now. Guess it isn’t surprising for an edgelord like you, though,” Lance teases before taking a swig. He chokes back a cough, nearly spewing it all over the floor.

 

“Dude, what the fuck? This coffee looks like it’s as dark as your soul, but it tastes like diabetes! I feel lied to!”

 

“Oh, please. There’s only like, ten packets of sugar in there. That’s nothing compared to the amount I need to survive finals week.”

 

“Uh, isn’t that a little excessive? Sweet stuff is like, horrible for your skin. Which explains a lot, actually.”

 

“Your face is a little excessive. Don't judge me.”

 

“I know, I know. I'm beautiful, and you can't handle it,” Lance replies, cheekily shrugging his shoulders. “And if you want your face to break out, be my guest. But now that you’re up and alert, let’s get going! The squad’s waiting at Altea Park!” 

 

“So, we’re just skipping class then?” 

 

“Like Shiro would ever let that happen. He’s way too straight-laced for that. Everything’s already been cancelled, so we've got the whole day to ourselves. Come on, just go out with me, it’ll be fun! I mean, uh, go  _ outside _ with me...um, us! Yeah! That!” 

 

“I actually still have a paper to finish,” Keith says, sheepishly scratching his head. Though he’d attempted to pull an all-nighter, his body just wouldn’t allow it. Track had been consuming his life lately. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d spent so much time training for regionals that everything else felt exhausting. Even the simple act of attending class somehow managed to tire him out. Sure, he’d gotten first place--but at what cost? 

 

Even with some of the pressure relieved, he still had a lot of catching up to do. But while completing his tedious schoolwork before indulging himself in a four hour nap were Keith’s optimal plans for the day, Lance had other ideas.

 

“If you think I'm gonna let you stay holed up in here like a hermit, then you've got another thing coming. I get that you’re slacking and all, but it’s not every day we get to see snow, y’know? Don’t worry, you'll thank me later,” Lance declares firmly, walking back towards the doorway to gather his discarded clothes.

 

“Wait, haven't you been procrastinating on your essay too?”

 

“Uh, never mind that. It’s not due for a couple of days, so it’s fine. The deadline might be pushed back. And look, I even made this for you, so stop whining and live a little.”

 

Lance carefully sifts through his armful of scarves before draping one around Keith’s neck. Its design is undoubtedly minimalistic--thick, soft-looking wool in a pattern of red and white stripes--but simplicity is just Keith's style.

 

“You made this...for me?” 

“Well it’s not like your shitty anime clothes will be keeping you warm anytime soon. I get that we’re broke college students all, but could you really only afford half a jacket?” he jokes, gently ruffling Keith’s hair. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll fix all your fashion faux pas.”

 

“Says the guy who’s dressed up like a clown! Doesn’t that shit feel uncomfortable?” Keith protests, smacking his hand.

 

“What can I say, I am most comfortable when I am impervious to most physical forms of precipitation. And I’ll have you know that the layered look is totally in!”

 

“Whatever you say. But I refuse to be seen with you while you're wearing that ridiculous getup.”

 

“Well if you want me to take my clothes off so badly you could always just ask, Keithy boy,” says Lance with a self-assured smirk. "I’ll do it of course, but if I freeze to death I'm blaming you."   
  


"How will you blame me if you're already dead?"  
  
"I'll rise from the grave just to haunt you."  
  
Keith smirks. "Good thing I know how to perform an exorcism."  
  
"You--never mind. Not gonna question it. Anyway, as I was saying, I was making a little sweater for Klaizap last week, but the dude is like the size of a peanut, so there was still a bunch of yarn left over. After hearing the forecasts, I used all the excess to make these neat scarves for you guys. Color-coded, of course. I'm no savage.”

 

“That’s...”  _ Pretty nice of you _ , Keith’s mind supplies. “...corny as hell,” he continues, disregarding the thought. 

 

“It was a labor of love, you curmudgeon. Don't let my hard work go to waste,” Lance huffs. 

 

“Do you actually know what that word means?”

 

“I have approximate knowledge of many things. That's how I knew this would suit your complexion. It looks pretty good on you, pretty boy. Admit it, my skill is impeccable.”

 

“I look like a walking candy cane,” Keith grumbles.

 

“If only you were as sweet as one.”

 

“My bitterness is no business of yours.”

 

“Of course it is. Friends don’t let friends sit and wallow,” says Lance, walking out into the hallway. “Blue’s parked out front. Now are you coming, or do I have to physically drag you?”

 

“Shouldn’t I go change first? My clothes are all wrinkled and I probably look like a zombie.”

 

Lance chuckles. “Isn’t that just how you normally look? And since when have you cared about appearances? I mean, just look at that hair! Yep, that’s definitely no bueno with the ladies. Not that that really matters to you, either.”

 

“Finally, something we can agree on,” Keith deadpans, following him out.

 

\-----

 

“So what's with the swimming stuff?” Keith questions, craning his neck towards the pair of pool rings that are strewn in the back seats of Lance’s blue van. “Are you planning to  _ actually _ fall in the pond, then defile my carpet again?”

 

“That was  _ one time! _ Let me live, will ya? And even if I wanted to, the whole thing is frozen over anyway,” Lance huffs, pulling out of the parking lot. “And if you must know, these things are for tubing. I got ‘em from a guy on my floor--though he didn’t have enough for all of us. Not ideal, but it’s the best we can do. Well, Hunk did offer to let us use that really big party platter as some sort of sled, but I'd feel kinda weird about putting my ass on something that's used to serve food.”

 

“Fair enough,” Keith replies, leaning his head on his hand. Lance has the heating cranked up all the way, and it’s starting to make him feel sluggish. He stares out the window, just watching the world fade to white. And despite the caffeine, he drifts off to the rumble of Blue’s engine purring in his ears.

 

\-----

 

“Keith. Keeeith. Hey, Mullet, wake up. Rise and shine, Samurai! Just ‘cause we finally got a real winter doesn’t mean you can just go and hibernate on me!” 

 

Lance tries everything he can think of, from shaking his shoulders to poking his cheeks to turning Blue’s inner lights on and off, but the dormant boy still doesn’t stir.

 

“Buddy, chum, pal--would you open your eyes already? You can rest later; we’re here,” he says, prodding him right in the ribs. That, at least, earns a reaction. 

 

“Stop that, you asshole! I’m ticklish!” Keith sputters, his eyes snapping open almost instantaneously. 

 

“Well, good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty.” 

 

“Ugh, how long have I been out?”

 

“Hmm, maybe twenty minutes or so? Driving took a lot longer than usual, since the back roads were still pretty slushy and shit. But man--you were like, basically comatose. I was starting to get a little worried. You didn’t even budge when ‘Ol Blue started sliding around. Looks like you drooled a little, too.”

 

Keith raises a hand to his cheek, and sure enough, it’s covered in moisture. “Ugh, it's all slimy,” he grumbles, wiping it off on his pants.

 

“Well, you did it to yourself. Don't you dare get your spit on the seat, though. Blue is a special and sensitive girl and will not stand for that kind of treatment,” says Lance, climbing out of the car. Keith follows suit, his joints straining uncomfortably 

 

Doors locking behind them, they set off to go find the others.

 

\-----

 

Pidge is the first one they spot. Upon further inspection, she’s surrounded by snowmen, each one obviously made to resemble a different member of their friend group.

 

“My name is Keith. I’m sooo emo,” she drawls, her voice throaty and gruff. 

 

Allura laughs. “That  _ is _ rather amusing.”

 

“Impressive impressions,” says Shiro. “I guess you just know us too well.”

 

“Yeah, that’s Keith, alright!” Lance wheezes, beside himself. 

 

“I don't sound like that at all!”

 

“Oh, please. It even looks like you, too. See? That snow-mullet’s practically lifelike! You’ve really outdone yourself, Pidgeon. Maybe you should go into the art field instead. And while I  _ am  _ a little disappointed that my snowman doesn’t have glorious, rippling abs, I guess I can't really complain. I suppose true beauty is just too difficult to capture.” 

 

“You could've made it yourself if you'd gotten here sooner.”

 

“Yeah, we were starting to think you guys weren't gonna show,” adds Hunk.

 

“Dude, I wouldn't miss this for the world. Not even for the entire universe,” Lance declares, going in for a fist bump. “Oh, and here, I have scarves for you guys!”

 

“Well, it took you long enough. As you can see, I was dying of boredom,” Pidge complains. “And I don’t even wanna  _ think _ about all the kinky shit you and Keith were probably doing while we--”

 

“We’re, uh, glad you could make it,” Shiro cuts in, looking pained. 

 

\-----

 

No matter how tightly Lance packs them, the snowballs continue to crumble, forming nothing but misshapen lumps.

 

“Why's it so easy in movies?!” he cries, hurling one in his frustration. He hears it collide with a soft little  _ splat _ . 

 

“You’re thinking too hard,” says Keith, producing a perfectly round sphere.

 

“W-well you’re not thinking hard  _ enough _ ! You never think, but somehow manage to make everything look effortless!” Lance pouts.

 

“I'm kinda just winging it here.”

 

“Oh, please. This is definitely sorcery. Hey, Keith's a witch, guys! Watch out!”

 

“Yes, Lance. We know. You've mentioned it hundreds of times now. And before you ask--no, we will  _ not _ be burning him at the stake just ‘cause he wounded your pride,” says Pidge.

 

“Yeah, it's not  _ his _ fault he's good at everything,” adds Hunk. “Well, except for like, social interaction. But you get the idea.”

 

“Why don't you just ask him for help?” Shiro proposes. “I'm sure Keith would be  _ more _ than happy to assist.” 

 

Keith narrows his eyes. “Is there something you’re trying to imply here?” 

 

“Oh, it's nothing. Nothing you don't already know, anyway,” laughs the older man.

 

“Well, I can see that you two have some interesting stuff to work out between yourselves, but yeah--if you wanna explain your weird secret ninja technique, I'm all ears,” Lance butts in, scratching his head.

 

“I mean, it’s not really anything special. First, you get some snow,” he says, scooping and piling it into Lance's hands. “And then you just... _ roll  _ with it.”

 

“Hey, hold the phone! Was that a fucking  _ pun? _ ”

 

“See? I told you he was funny!” Hunk exclaims, jabbing a finger at Keith. “It just usually happens when you’re not around!”

 

Lance shakes his head in disbelief. “Wow, who knew the guy had it in him?”

 

“I’m standing right here, you know!”

 

“Yeah, and you still haven't helped me at all!”

 

“I’m not really sure what you’re expecting...but here, I'll just show you,” says Keith, adding more snow to the heap. His own fingers curl around Lance's to guide them.

 

“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” cries the other boy, shying away. 

 

“Just shut up and trust me. Now don’t squeeze too hard, or you'll smash it.” 

 

A few attempts later, and they've finally managed to get the hang of it. 

 

\-----

 

“Wha--” 

 

“Oh, sorry Shiro. I was trying to hit Keith,” says Lance, shooting him an apologetic smile. But right as the words leave his mouth, a snowball nails him square in the face, colliding in a burst of chilly white powder.

 

Keith smirks. “Heh. Like that?” 

 

“Oh, it's on now, Mullet!” 

 

Shiro’s smile from watching the self-proclaimed ‘rivals’ quickly fades as he's hit by another snowball, this time from the opposite direction. 

 

“Hunk? You too?!” the black-haired man splutters incredulously.

 

Hunk simply shrugs in response. “Hey, we can't let those two have all the fun, can we?”

 

\-----

  
  


“Allura, let’s team up to take on that menace!” Pidge shouts, ind ataking cover behind her small snow fort.

 

“Roger that!”

 

“Not ready to admit defeat yet, huh Pidge? And you're dragging innocent civilians into this, too? Never fear, fair princess! For I, Sir Lancelot, will save you from the gremlin’s evil clutches!”

 

“You really should be worrying about yourself!” says Allura, hurling a snowball that spatters all over his chest.

 

“Yeah! Get some of this!” 

 

“Ugh, I'm hit!” Lance groans, falling to his knees.

 

“Ha! Got his ass!” Pidge yells triumphantly. “Looks like the hunter has become the hunted after all. Where are your ‘mad skills’ now, sharpshooter?”

 

“Hey, don’t forget that I beat  _ all _ your asses in paintball! I mean, uh...oh, the humanity! Hunk, tell my mother I love her!” Lance cries, slumping over dramatically. His head lolls to the side as he closes his eyes and goes limp.

 

“Nooo! He had so much to live for!” bellows Hunk.

 

Keith rushes to Lance’s side, cradling his ‘corpse’ in his arms. “This can't be the end! Please, come back to us!”

 

“It’s too late...he's gone. On this very day, our good friend was murdered in cold blood. Never forget,” says Hunk, making a cross motion over his heart.

 

“Hey, he had it coming,” Pidge protests.

 

Lance opens one eye. “And by the way, Keith, I entrust all my skin products to you. You seem to need them more than anyone. Maybe then you can finally have pores like mine.”

 

“I think I liked you better when you were dead,” Keith sighs, biting back a smile.

 

\-----

 

“This hill’s pretty steep,” Keith says, kicking some snow down its slope.

 

“Mmm-hmm. Gotta be at least a thirty foot drop. You still going?” Lance asks with a glint in his eyes.

 

“You know it. You?”

 

“Going? I'm speeding up!” 

 

Lance lets out a whoop before charging ahead-- face-first, of course, because what better way to prove himself than to laugh in the face of danger? 

 

As his own heartbeat pounds in his numb, red-tipped ears, for a moment, Lance forgets all his worries. The rush of adrenaline blocks out the rest of the world. It feels like he's  _ flying _ \--so far past cloud nine that he’s touching the stars. 

 

He can’t help but cry out in giddy delight, but his hollers of joy turn to yelps of regret as he skids on a rough patch of earth. The jarring collision sends loose chunks of snow flying into his face like cold sea spray. When he finally slows to a stop, his head’s reeling. 

 

Despite all the chaos, Lance catches a glimpse of Keith’s equally rocky descent. He’s skidding and cursing, but grinning and laughing all the while.

 

_ The guy’s an adrenaline junkie, that's for sure. But he looks really happy...it’s nice,  _ Lance sighs to himself.  _ Wish he would be like that more often.  _

 

He’s so dazed from his fall that he hears the cries of warning too late.

 

“Shit, shit,  _ shit!” _

 

Keith’s feet scrabble for purchase on the slippery ground, but his excessive momentum betrays him. He crashes right into Lance, painfully flopping on top of him.

“Oh dear god!” Lance groans, his back aching. “For a small guy, you’re heavy as hell! I feel like I've been hit by a truck!” 

 

“Well, you should've moved when you had the chance!” 

 

“ _ You _ shouldn't have rammed into me in the first place!”

 

“But you were in the way!”

 

“Guys, guys. I think that’s enough fun for one day,” Shiro chuckles, helping them both up. 

 

“What, no one else wants to try going down the hill? I went through the trouble of getting these inner tubes and everything!”

 

“I'd prefer to keep all my bones intact, thanks,” says Pidge.

 

“And I'd like to go back to being safe and warm in my room,” Hunk chimes in. “Don't you and Keith still have papers to write, anyway?” 

 

Keith’s eyes widen in realization. “Wow...that completely slipped my mind. I guess I was having such a good time that I totally forgot...”

 

“Hey man, don’t sweat it. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying some time with friends! Aren't you glad you finally got to... _ chill out _ a little?” Lance quips, humorously wiggling his eyebrows.

 

Keith smiles fondly. “Yeah. Thanks, everyone. You’re the best.”


End file.
